A luxurious townhouse in Westminster.
Any influential politician possessed at least one residence here.
Still, the townhouse of someone important enough to represent an entire party was on another level entirely.
Since moving into Buckingham, I had rarely had any reason to visit places like this myself, so returning here after a long time felt strangely nostalgic.
"So you really told Her Majesty that you might participate in the war?"
"I said I would last time, didn't I?"
"Well… I thought it was some new sort of joke. You do occasionally make ridiculous jokes, Your Highness."
"Even so, do you really think I would summon the Prime Minister and the leader of the opposition just to tell a joke?"
William Gladstone, the leading figure of the Liberal Party and someone connected to me through various past encounters, had immediately agreed to host the meeting as soon as he heard I would be visiting.
Naturally.
When the most popular man in the British Empire—the Prince Consort himself—announces a visit, one must show proper hospitality.
Although I had left the palace somewhat hastily after being scolded, it was nice to remember that outside the house I was still treated with respect.
"Judging by the fact that you came here in the middle of the night, I suppose you told the Queen you intend to participate in the war and ended up having quite the argument."
"Argument? Nothing like that."
"Ah, I see. So you lost unilaterally."
"I didn't lose. I merely fulfilled the duty of a good husband who listens patiently to his wife's complaints."
Earlier, I had summoned Benjamin Disraeli and William Gladstone to discuss the future schedule.
After that meeting, I informed Victoria of the matters we had discussed.
Since it was all for the royal family and our children, I had expected she would understand.
—You're going to the battlefield? The enemy is… Russia? Are your ears failing already? Surely I misheard you.
Denial.
—Are you serious right now? Even if you go as a commander, you still represent the royal family! If something happens to you out there, what happens to the army's morale? What happens to me and the children? Absolutely not!
Anger.
—Fine, fine. Then how about this? Since you are an admiral, you can say you're participating in the war, but you remain at headquarters here in Britain and command operations from there.
Bargaining.
At that point I expected we would move on to depression and acceptance.
But our Queen was not so easily persuaded.
—Oh really? Then go ahead! I absolutely refuse to allow you to fight! Not until we have at least ten children! Get out!
Apparently the five stages of grief did not apply when the subject wasn't death.
"So in other words, you offended Her Majesty and were kicked out of the palace."
"Kicked out? Hardly. She could have simply locked herself in and ignored me. I just followed her wishes because I understand how she feels."
"Well… Her Majesty is already pregnant. Hearing her husband talk about going to war must have been quite shocking. Once some time passes, she'll calm down."
I had actually kept quiet deliberately until Victoria had entered a stable stage of her pregnancy.
But if I was going to go anyway, it seemed better to tell her beforehand rather than waiting until the crisis actually erupted.
"To speak seriously, this war may occur in a place completely unrelated to Britain. If we demand that citizens shed blood while the royal family remains safely distant, no one will speak kindly of us. Going to the battlefield is not a choice for me—it is a necessity. Victoria understands that intellectually. It's just difficult for her to accept emotionally."
"You seem quite certain that war will break out."
"Aren't you?"
"I had my doubts before. But after hearing you speak, I am leaning toward certainty."
He placed his glass down calmly before continuing.
"The Russian minister was desperate to hear a reason why Britain would not fight them. That suggests they are quite eager to cause trouble."
"Like a child nervously looking around before committing a prank?"
"A very accurate analogy. And if Russia is involved, Parliament will never hesitate to go to war. Especially when we have a strong ally like France."
Unfortunately, this was precisely how nations viewed war before the First World War.
As modernization accelerated, weapons were evolving at a frightening pace.
But people's perceptions were not keeping up.
Wars continued to occur, but they were not full-scale conflicts between great powers.
They were merely violence inflicted upon weaker nations in Asia or Africa.
In other words, no one yet understood what would happen when modernized great powers clashed directly.
Until now, more soldiers had died from disease and climate than from battle itself.
This was one of the reasons I believed war could not be avoided.
Unlike the Europe that emerged after the First World War—where nations tried to avoid war at all costs—Britain and France in this era still held a far more casual view.
War? If it's profitable, why not.
For a global consensus to form, suffering was usually required first.
Even if someone possessing knowledge of the future shouted, "War is self-destruction!" no one would listen.
"So can I assume the Liberal Party's position is unified?"
"Of course. Parliament will express deep respect for Your Highness's decision to lead by example and participate in the war as an admiral of the Royal Navy. However… some members are worried that your decision might place pressure on other politicians."
That made sense.
No one would demand that Members of Parliament personally take up rifles.
But those who had sons of military age might feel uneasy.
"I will take that into consideration. Still, if one truly wishes to preserve privilege, one must also fulfill certain responsibilities. Just as I will not personally fire a rifle on the front line, neither will the sons of our politicians. That will never happen."
"I cannot force anyone to enlist. But surely a man who risks his life for his country deserves greater respect than one who does not."
"I agree with that entirely. No country that fails to treat its soldiers properly ends well. If Your Highness and the sons of prominent politicians volunteer to serve in a war against a power like Russia, public resentment toward the privileged classes will soften considerably."
On matters like this, Gladstone and I were in perfect agreement.
Which made the discussion easy.
As for Prime Minister Charles Wellesley, the son of the Duke of Wellington and a former soldier himself, there was nothing more to say.
"But if war truly breaks out, what then?"
"The outcome of the war?"
"You speak as if Britain's victory is guaranteed. But Russia is also a formidable power. They may believe that even if they suffer heavy losses, they will at least avoid defeat."
"That's possible. But Russia is mostly bluff. If war breaks out, the entire world will finally recognize the structural weaknesses of that empire."
"Bluff, you say… Well, Russia does have a somewhat abnormal structure."
Of course, that "bluff" was enormous.
Large enough to suffocate anyone who underestimated it.
Unless a country possessed power comparable to Britain, confronting Russia directly was extremely dangerous.
France or Prussia might manage it.
But only if they avoided invading the Russian heartland.
Completely conquering Russia was something even Britain could not achieve.
The terrifying aspect of Russia was its willingness to endure limitless losses.
They would continue sending soldiers forward regardless of casualties.
Of course, that stubbornness came largely from grinding down millions of unliberated serfs.
And their "endurance" was sustained by a remarkable national mentality: even if the economy collapsed, they would simply insist it had always been broken anyway.
Because of this resilience, even Napoleon and Hitler had ultimately failed despite mountains of Russian corpses.
Of course, my objective was not to conquer Russia.
I simply intended to destroy any Russian army that dared venture beyond its borders.
"That is the conclusion. Russia remains a pre-modern state in many respects. Outside its own territory, it cannot defeat us."
"Hmm."
"But victory is still victory. Even if we kill a hundred thousand enemy soldiers, if ten thousand of our own die as well, the public will question whether the war was worth fighting."
"That's true. If the casualties are too high, criticism will arise even after victory."
The public was fickle.
Even a war supported by an overwhelming majority could turn into political disaster if the results were disappointing.
Dirty and unfair as it might seem, that was the reality of politics.
"So in this war, I would prefer that Britain not take the very front position."
"Pardon? Then what have we been discussing all this time?"
"Ah, don't misunderstand. I'm not saying we should withdraw entirely. I'm simply saying we should not be the ones leading the charge. Instead, we should show gratitude to the allies who will shed more blood on our behalf."
"…You mean France should take the lead while we remain one step behind?"
Exactly.
We had spent years carefully cultivating France.
If we did not use them now, when would we?
Although, to be honest, this moment had been the reason we cultivated them in the first place.
"But Your Highness, France may be thinking the same thing. They might expect Britain to fight Russia directly while they merely provide support."
Anyone with a functioning brain would think exactly as Gladstone described.
But diplomacy was precisely the art of making sure that someone could not escape even if they wished to.
I wiped a drop of condensation from my wine glass and spoke.
"Which is why I'd like your help with something. We need to create a justification."
"…A justification?"
"A reason why France must lead the fight against Russia. A reason for France to become the hero defending Europe's peace."
If someone from the ruling party—or I myself—did it, the scheme would be too obvious.
This was exactly the sort of work best handled by someone in the opposition.
"And what benefit would I gain from this?"
"Mr. Gladstone and the Liberal Party can demonstrate their continued relevance and minimize losses in the next election."
For the Liberals, who had been pushed aside by the Conservatives after the successful handling of the cholera crisis, this was an offer too valuable to refuse.
After a moment of thought, Gladstone chuckled softly and lifted his glass.
"Then shall we drink a toast? To France—the future hero of Europe."
"May God bless our great hero, France."
Russia and France.
With two European great powers balanced upon the scales, we exchanged glasses and enjoyed a surprisingly cheerful conversation.
And finally, I spoke the true reason I had come here tonight.
"By the way… would it be possible for me to stay here tonight?"
"…What?"
"I think my wife needs one more day to calm down."
"Ha! Of course."
Even if I was the Prince Consort of the world's greatest empire—calmly discussing how to manipulate great powers—
once I declared my intention to go to war, I was little more than a guilty man in front of my pregnant wife.
I pretended not to notice Gladstone's knowing smile as he brought another bottle of wine and quickly changed the subject.
"Come to think of it, how many years has it been since we first met at Eton…"
Hey.
Stop smiling.
I'm not staying away because I'm afraid to go home.
I'm simply giving my beloved wife time to gather her thoughts.
So wipe that smug grin off your face immediately.